


Puberty's A Bitch

by Adrien303



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Robin: Son of Batman (Comics)
Genre: Anorexia, Anorexia Nervosa, Damian is Not Handling Puberty Well, Damian is anorexic, Depression, Gen, HES A GOOD BOY, Recovery, Titus can be a therapy dog, hes 15, i plan on having a happy ending, self harm in the form of starving yourself, slightly aged-up Damian, tw eating disorders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-08-04 04:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16340234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrien303/pseuds/Adrien303
Summary: Damian is 15 and has begun gaining weight due to puberty. He's afraid of gaining too much and not being able to stay Robin, and decides he's going to lose the weight, and do whatever it takes to get to his desired weight.Extreme Trigger Warning for eating disorders. Based on my own experiences.I DO NOT CLAIM MEDICAL ACCURACYTHIS IS A VENT FICI am not interested in “Constructive criticism”. I am writing this for me alone.Anon commenting disabled due to anon hateBIG EDIT TO CHAPTER SIX





	1. Chapter 1

Damian had never been an insecure child. He leaked an aggressive confidence through the room with every breath. This is why Damian- now 15- is having such a hard time coping with his new lack of self esteem. When Damian had been younger, his high metabolism combined with his strict training regiment had kept off any unnecessary weight. Now, however, Damian was in the beginning of puberty. This bothered him mildly on its own, but now his body had begun to gain weight.His hunger had increased and his metabolism seemed to slow. He had put on nearly 20 pounds in two months, and he hated every ounce. A Robin was supposed to be lithe, light-footed, and graceful. Damian couldn't cope with lumbering around in his swollen body, every footstep shaking the ground. Or at least, that's what he saw happening.

Damian had noticed how his Robin suit seemed to fit tighter around him now, and found the thought of it not fitting him and needing it replaced nauseating. Damian just hadn't been controlling himself well enough. He'd keep trying.

The first day was hard. His stomach was still overly expanded so it required more food to fill up. Refusing had been embarrassingly difficult for the teenage ex-assassin. The "family" (Damian rolled his eyes at their insistence) rarely ate meals together, and though Pennyworth prepares 80% of the food in Wayne Manor, he was so busy keeping the house together that he rarely stood by to watch you clear your plate. Some day, Damian may be able to thank Father for getting him a dog, but held off for now. In the whole day, Damian had only eaten 900 calories- each bite carefully calculated in his head a moment before he bit it. If he'd decided he'd had enough, well- Titus can help with that. Looking both ways before calling the sweet dog and sliding the delicious and calorie rich food onto the floor with knowledge that Titus would not leave even a crumb on Alfred's polished tile.

He noticed it gradually, the pounds dropping. Unfortunately , Damian hardly had access to a scale of his own, so he'd been forced to catalog his progress from memory and size measurements. He'd lost weight in his shoulders and stomach. Even his fingers looked slimmer. Damian felt like he should be happy for the new development, but he couldn't help but continue planning all the work that needed to be done in the future.

On a day into town under the guise of walking Titus, he bought a digital scale and slid it into his backpack before anyone on the street could notice his purchase. Damian's goal at first was to lose a few pounds, just enough to feel like himself again. His 900 calorie days became 800 calorie days, then 700, 600, less. The more he restricts, the more weight he drops, until finally a month and a half later- he plateaus. AT 5 foot 8, 132 pounds, he's stopped losing weight. Which has led us up to now.

Damian's heart sinks after his fourth weigh-in with no change. He hasn't been doing anything differently, so what was going on?! All that weight couldn't have just been water weight, surely? Damian cards his fingers through his hair and lets out a drawn out sigh. Stepping back from the scale, he redresses immediately. Damian can't handle even a stitch of clothing on his person at the time of his weigh-ins, which unfortunately contradicts with his hatred of seeing his won body in the mirror. God, his stomach was sticking out past his waist band from the carbs he was forced to choke down yesterday after Pennyworth had some free time to hang around after making Damian a sandwich for lunch. Damian feels disgusting. He just finished pulling his shirt the rest of the way down when his bedroom door receives a knock. He hurries agitatedly to the door and opens it to see his oldest brother, "Dick". 

"What do you want, Grayson?" He asks impatiently. The longer he hangs around the rest of the family of vigilantes, the more they're bound to realize his rapid weight loss. For as much as he wants people to see him be smaller and more qualified in his position at his father's side, he gets a spark of anxiety at the thought of anyone noticing what he's doing. He knows that it's unhealthy, and that if anyone caught him doing what he was, then they would step in and make him stop. His progress would revert and his effort would be wasted. He cannot allow that to happen. "Bruce just wanted me to tell you the patrol schedule for this week." Dick smiled at him and reached down to ruffle his hair but was met by his youngest brother jerking his head back to miss his hand. Dick chuckled. "Are you going to tell me what it is or are you just going to stand there to waste my time and antagonize me?" Damian growled. One thing he did enjoy about puberty was that his voice deepening made him sound more like his father. The thought lit a spark of immature giddiness in his chest.

Dick rolled his eyes. "Tonight, it's Bruce, Steph, and Tim, Tomorrow, it's me, you, and Jase." He paused at Damian's interrupting confused look. "Bruce has a charity gala he has to go to, and thankfully no one else is bringing their kids so we don't have to go and put up with "Brucie"." Dick smiled at his own not-quite-joke. "Then it's you, Bruce, and Tim. Cass comes back from her international mission the day after and she insists on going on patrol so it'll be me, Jason, Bruce, and Cass. SO far that's as far as we've gotten and we'll probably play rock-paper-scissors to see who goes after that." Dick smiles and fidgets with his grey hoodie strings. He stands there for a moment before Damian raises and eyebrow. "Oh! Right, I was gonna ask if you wanted to watch a movie since we're not on patrol tonight. It's an ocean documentary." Dick looks hopeful. Damian usually loves documentaries, and anything in the ocean would guarantee adorable and amazing animals, but he doesn't think he can handle being in such close proximity to his family, and the snacks they insist on during family film nights. "I'll have to decline, Grayson. I have important work to focus on." He barely catches Dick's disappointed look before he closes the door in his face. 

He waits until he hears footsteps walk down the hallway before collapsing on his bed. He pulls at the strands of his hair. Why has he been feeling so anxious, lately? A Robin shouldn't be anxious. He needs to cut this out. He's being ridiculous. He decides to pull out his sketchbook and turn on some music. Twenty minutes in, he catches himself drawing some suspiciously Burton-esce characters and groans, tearing the paper apart so no one can find it. He doesn't need anyone finding those drawings and coming to any conclusions. He starts on another piece of paper, before having to restart- having repeated the earlier problem. He's on his fourth paper before he decides to stop trying to draw people. He draws building, and plants, and Titus. He get lost in the scratch of pencil on paper for hours. One of his pictures of a garden he considers to be one of his best and decides to set it aside to properly outline and add color to the sketch. By the time he's finished categorizing and analyzing all of that night's artwork, it's nearly two in the morning. There's a small knock on the door, and Damian opens it to see his father- just showered and obviously injured. There are stitches dangerously close to his neck and a spike of fear rings alarm bells. Bruce smiles tiredly at his youngest son. "It looks worse than it is, I promise, Dami. A mugger got his blade between my armor plates." Damian nodded. "Are you going to bed soon," asked Bruce. "Most likely. I may have... lost track of time in my room." Damian answered. Bruce nodded and set a hand on his son's shoulder, before pressing down slightly and looking concerned. Damian could feel adrenaline burst through his blood, ready to explain himself as needed, but his Father didn't say anything. Bruce smiled- but worry still sat heavy in his eyes. "Goodnight, kiddo. Love you," Bruce said and embarrassingly kissed his son on the top of his head. Damian flushed slightly before mumbling a goodnight and closing the door, turning out the lights, and lying down in his bed- whether he planned on sleeping or not.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW Panic attacks, vomiting, internalized fatphobia and self bullying
> 
> Bruce is slowly getting what's up
> 
> sorry it took so long, i got criticism for the story and it completely threw me off and killed any and all joy i had previously had for this story but i’m trying to ignore it and move on now

The first time Damian passes out during patrol, he's with Dick. Of course he freaks out, but Damian was only out for a few minutes and was able to pass it off as some nonspecific head injury that ended up getting him out of a week of patrol. That probably would have saddened him, but being Robin has been way more difficult and he's becoming way less interested in it then he used to be. The thought scares him terribly, but he isn't even really sure if he wants to do anything anymore. He mostly stays in his room. He used to re-tailor his Robin suits in an effort to try to keep them on his body and to account for the lost weight, but now he just adds more layers underneath and pretends he isn't drenched in sweat. At least he isn't freezing anymore. 

Something new that Damian has discovered, is how lovely it is to lay in bed and do nothing at all. At least, it is in the moment. Every time he accidentally catches himself in the mirror he acquires a new feeling that is similar to a mix of disappointment, anger, guilt, and frustration. He wishes he had worked out instead. For right now, however, he is perfectly content lying in bed for hours on end with nothing to do but watch the passage of time out his bedroom window. He feels good. Safe- like he hadn't with his mother. Warm- like he doesn't whenever he wears less than two layers. Hungry- like he does every god damn minute of his life. His feet are freezing and he can't focus. He just lies there, telling himself he's happy until someone comes to get him for dinner. It's been Drake the last four days. He doesn't know why his father won't talk to him.

Drake forgoes knocking and just swings open the bedroom door instead. Titus leaps up onto Damian's bed and he surpresses a wince when he lands on a tender rib. He bruises so much easier now. "Alfred told me to get you. For dinner, I mean. You must have been lying in your room for hours now. Found a new hobby?" said Drake with his arms crossed looking bored. "I know what time it is, Drake- and thank you for your brilliant observational skills. You may now leave me be. Tell Pennyworth I will be down in a moment." Damian didn't even look in his brother's direction. The door closed and he heard footsteps moving away. Damian rolled onto his front with a groan and a tiny gasp as his tender ribs jutted out so that they pressed painfully into his firm mattress. Titus sniffed at his face and licked his nose until Damian sat up and painstakingly pulled his body upward off of his bed and moved toward the door.

Damian hates family dinners. Sitting at the table with even one detective (plus Pennyworth- nothing got past that man) was hard enough when he has his rules to follow. He can't even stand it when the whole "family" is under the same roof. Two angsty detectives, one overly caring police officer, and an aggressive and sarcastic meathead- plus Pennyworth once more- was far too much to even try to follow his typical regulations when it comes to eating. No less than fifty chews per bite, cut into smaller pieces, drink copious amounts of water- the like. All of which that Damian knows is so painfully obviously disordered. He's being textbook and he knows it- now he just has to make sure no one else does. Tonight specifically Damian decides that he's going to try to leave his rules at the door and try to eat like a "normal teenage boy" would if only to throw any suspicion. The idea brings a tightly wound bundle of mixed feelings on all accounts. He's ashamedly thrilled at the prospect of being able to finally fill his belly and feel normal and good and just like every body else. He longs for food like no one's god damned business and the idea of a cheat day is exhilarating. On the other hand- panic surges through his iced veins and he tries to convince himself that this night won't ruin everything. He can already feel the calories gluing to his fat thighs- stretchmark covered and scarred torso, and his flabby and chunky cheeks. He feels repulsive. He feels sick. He feels like he's about to fucking jump out the window to avoid going to dinner and he's in the middle of considering it when Grayson walks up the staircase- smiling at the sight of his youngest brother. 

"Dami! Come on, kiddo, dinner's waiting- let's go!" Grayson gently but enthusiastically gripped Damian's left wrist and more or less dragged him toward the original destination. Damian walked in behind his brother into the dining room where the whole family waited. Jason and Tim had already begun eating and Pennyworth and Bruce looked at the fact with tired disdain. Dick, Bruce, and Alfred didn't begin eating until Damian was seated and Damian tried to collect the smallest amount of food possible while still not giving anything away. He catches his father watching him and looks at him challengingly before nauseatingly beginning to eat. The food is just as delightful as anything Pennyworth cooks for the family and Damian's heart sings the praise as much as his stomach does. It tries to tell him that this is what will make him happy again- that this is the only thing that will keep him healthy and that he needs to eat properly and to get help but his mind jumps in and starts metaphorically beating that argument with a stick. 'You're lying to yourself. You won't be happy until you've reversed this mess. You won't get respect until you can prove yourself and you won't ever get it if you tell anyone about this. Never say a word, you're too big and you know it. One day you'll be too big to even get into the Robin outfit. You'll rip the seams to shreds and they'll all laugh at you. You're pathetic.' 

Damian feels his stomach tighten considerably and he tries to push down the thoughts as well as the nausea but he's sure someone at least has already noticed his discomfort. He stealthily spits his mouthful into his napkin and excuses himself to the bathroom- walking slightly more quickly than would be seen as normal but his control is slipping and he needs to get out of sight and earshot as quickly as he can manage. He's practically sprinting toward the bathroom by the time he gets to a far enough away one, closing the door and locking it- double and triple checking to make sure no one can get in- he bends down over the toilet. He's never even considered trying this as it's never once seemed appealing to him but he needs the food gone and this is the fastest way to make it happen. He reaches down as far as he can but his fingers can't quite reach the back of his throat. He sobs in frustration- tears begin to leak down his face as the panic truly begins to set in. He goes through the cabinet to try and find something he can use to regurgitate the calories and comes up with an unopened toothbrush package. He rips it off as every second that the food sits inside him is a second that his body is accepting and adding the calories. Before he can lose his nerve he jams the toothbrush into his mouth and down his throat. It hits the back of his throat and his stomach cramps violently as his stomach contents burst out of his body. The acrid odor filling his nostrils telling him that he should have turned the bathroom fan. His throat burns and he can't control how much noise he's making and the retching sounds incredibly loud as well as the sound of it splashing in the toilet. He's shaking by the time he's done and is so out of it from panic and pain that he lays down right on the floor.

He doesn't get up for ten minutes then goes back to dinner and explains he's feeling ill- which they believe from his disheveled appearance and wish him well. He goes back to his room and after brushing his teeth, goes to sleep- finally feeling calm from being sure not a trace of dinner remains inside him. When Bruce goes to check on him later that night- he sees his son smiling in his sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, I wrote this in AP Psych :/

Damian wakes up nauseous and dizzy. He can’t even sit up in bed let alone stand. This is supposed to be day four of his fast, but if he stays sick like this, he may have to cut it short. His vision dances as black spots wink in and out of his sight like combusting stars.

He decides that as long as he can get away with it, he’ll stay in his room. Pennyworth is taking the week off to visit family, so he won’t be one to call Damian down for breakfast. It feels like Bruce is getting more and more distant lately- always in the xave researching something or other. He’d go down to check but isn’t sure he’d be able to take on so many stairs. The most disconcerting is the fact that he doesn’t even feel hungry anymore. He feels the cold in his feet and fingers- and the ache in his joints as they struggle to support him. Bruce pulled him out of patrol until further notice and Damian is disturbed by how little it matters to him as long as he can still work out- sometimes in the cave but more often in the bedroom whenever he can pull himself together enough to get the energy for it.

There’s a pain in his neck that won’t go away no matter how hard or how often he massages the muscles. Damian sits up from his bed and the sheets rumple beneath him as blood rushes through his ears. It takes a few seconds of sitting still and supporting his weight on the palms of his hands behind him. When he can once again hear the ticking of the analogue clock on the far wall and the sound of his pulse fades away, he stands, wobbling but persistent. The thin skin of his feet scrapes against the once found soft carpeting as he staggers into the en suite bathroom. He flinches when his already freezing extremities make contact with the chilled tile floor. He internally reprimands himself at once and digs his fingernails into his palms in frustration. 

Damian clicks the lock on the door- a useless comfort considering the whole family’s ability to pick a lock in under a minute. He slips out of his too loose clothing and turns the shower knob. While he waits for the water to warm, he studies his naked form in the mirror. His shoulders jut out with the skin stretched over the bones in a painful looking pull. Damian sighs before checking the water temperature and stepping into the shower. The hot water feels rejuvenating on his neck- not quite curing, but helping the pain dissipate enough for it to settle into the background. The warm water pools around his feet and heat up at last. Damian lifts his arms, swaying slightly, to run his fingers through his hair and rinse it. Damian’s legs wobble more uncontrollably and panic surges through him when he finally falls and it all goes black.


	4. Chapter 4

School has started back up in Gotham City to Damian’s dismay. He would be entering 10th grade- sophomore year- at Gotham Academy. The years before, Damian always attempted to persuade his father that this was unnecessary and that he already knew enough to graduate from the school- and each year his father would sigh into his hands and try to tell him that it wasn’t his academic skills that needed to be trained but that his upbringing with his mother had some unintended side effects and that he needed to try to make friends with people his own age.  
Like Damian would want to be “friends” with anyone let alone someone beneath him. This year however he would take any excuse to leave the manor and stay away from the watchful gaze of Pennyworth and when he visited- Grayson. Bruce and Drake may be the best detectives in the world (not that Damian would ever say it to their faces) but it was truly the butler and the oldest who knew him best out of anyone and for that- they were dangerous. He needed to stay away from them if he wanted to continue his quest to self improvement. God knows what either would do if they knew his daily caloric intake. Father would probably hospitalize him. Grayson may attack him with teary eyed affection that was so incredibly undeserved that it made Damian feel somehow worse.  
Damian looked to the clock on his bedroom wall and resigned himself to his fate. He was grateful for the distance but that didn’t make the academy any more enjoyable for the teen. He slipped into four layers of shirts before officially putting on his uniform. It would help him stay warm and also keep up the appearance that the uniform sill fit him. Damian is obviously not one for making friends or small talk- especially not with those so low as children, so accidentally letting his goals slip was of no issue to him. He expected no one would really notice or care anyway, so he essentially had nothing to worry about. Even as he thought this, however, he felt his anxiety skyrocket and surge through his veins, his heart beat seemingly vibrating in suspense and fear as he tied his shoes and walked out the door with Pennyworth.  
\---------  
Driving Damian to school is typically a quiet if not silent affair, so his staring out the window and avoidance of conversation didn’t exactly set off any alarm bells in the older man’s head. Alfred can feel something is wrong but he also knows Damian and understands that he will avoid any and all speak of emotion whenever possible and just lash out at anyone who tried. Alfred quickly decides that he will wait and see if the problem resolved itself before interference is necessary, and move on from there. With a sigh and a worry filled glance to Damian through the rear-view mirror, Alfred pulled into the school’s parking lot and turned to wish the youngest a pleasant day only to see the back seat empty and Damian walking quickly away from the car. Worry once again began to fill his heart but Alfred just breathes and drives back to the home hosting his son and grandchildren.  
Arriving back to the manor, Alfred parked the car in the who-knows-how-many car garage (Alfred of course knows but that is beside the point) and exiting the vehicle, smoothing down his shirt as he goes. He hangs the car keys on the hook by the door labeled “Mercedes” next to the about four other hooks labeled for each different car. This of course was done for master Bruce who most of the time is too focused on work whether it be at WE or his night job to have enough brain power left to sort through which keys go to which car. Alfred knows he keeps the manor together but it’s always appreciated and just a tad bit adorable when they try.  
Alfred went through his normal day of housekeeping- dusting, vacuuming, mopping, laundry, lunch for the present occupants and beginning dinner. He is in the middle of chopping vegetables when a phone ringing echoes through the kitchen. Alfred quickly wipes his hands on a towel and goes to answer the phone.  
“Hello, this is Vice Principal Breyer from Gotham Academy, am I reaching the guardian of Damian Wayne?”  
And suddenly a sense of dread flooded Alfred. “Yes, this is Alfred Pennyworth- his butler. Mr. Bruce Wayne is unavailable at the moment but I am a legal guardian of Damian’s as well.” Ever since Alfred insisted that if he was the only one going to answer the phone he may as well be legally allowed to receive information about his grandchildren.  
“We are calling to alert you that Damian has collapsed during his physical education class and that he is currently being treated at Gotham General.”  
“Is he alright?!” Alfred’s usually calm demeaner has not only left his body- it has jumped from him and burst through the skylight, raining glass down on him below. There was a terrifying moment where the woman didn’t answer and his breath caught in his chest.  
“Damian is fine, Mr. Pennyworth. He is awake and alert and as far as we are aware unharmed. We had to call an ambulance due to legal repercussions and Gotham’s educational board policy.”  
Alfred’s breath returned to his body once more. The tension considerably lessened in his muscles and he was almost crying from the relief that his boy was okay. Suddenly he remembered the feeling he got this morning that something was wrong and guilt ambushed him as he recalled letting it just be instead of asking about the problem or trying to intervene. Alfred thanked the vice principal for the call and as quickly as he could, rushed out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. My computer was down for a long time so I could only really write this at school- and that's kinda hard to do so admire my commitment. Thankfully my computer is back up now and the only thing that could be in the way of this story getting finished up soon is busyness and writers'-block.   
> Shit is going on in this chapter, yall. Get ready

Alfred arrived at Gotham General in record time, surpassing all speeding laws. He could feel sweat running down his back and it was only his years in the military that kept his hands from shaking on the wheel. Pulling up to the tall, overcrowded building in central Gotham, Alfred parked as close as he could and walked briskly to the double doors. He would have sprinted if it wouldn’t have caused a panic for the staff and paparazzi alike. 

Alfred stops at the counter for just long enough to find out what room his youngest grandson was currently residing in before he pushed out a hurried “Thank you, Ma’am” and continued his desperate dash to Damian. When Alfred finally got to him, his heart was beating in his eardrums until they felt as if they would bleed from the pressure. The door was already open, but he was a gentleman and didn’t want to impose, so he stood for a moment and a half to knock and then barged in like a terrified grandfather who is willing to kill anyone to get to his grandson. Which, obviously, is the case. 

Damian looked up at Alfred and instantly darted his eyes toward the edge of the bed in a shame you could only see if you knew him well. Alfred’s heart ached. The doctor who had been sitting bedside on a rolling stool looked up in a mild surprise.

“Hello,” the doctor greeted, standing to shake Alfred’s hand, “I’m Doctor Amelia Ryan. Are you Damian’s…?”

“Grandfather. My name is Alfred Pennyworth,” Alfred filled in for her. She nodded. 

“Well, Mr. Pennyworth, we have a bit to discuss. I was just asking Damian some questions but perhaps you would be able to clue me in on a bit more information.” She looked hopefully to Alfred and he realized that his beloved little brat of a precious grandson must have been giving her hell over being questions for his actions or even being in the hospital in the first place. 

Alfred looked at his youngest for a moment- still being kept from reaching Damian’s eye. He sighed and turned back to the doctor. “Perhaps we should step into the hall,” he suggested. 

Dr. Ryan looked back to the elderly butler and nodded, stepping out the door a few paces before lightly gesturing for Alfred to join her. Once he followed, she closed the door behind him and stepped just away from the window of the door. Alfred didn’t know if she knew Damian could read lips or if she just wanted to get away from his piercing gaze as quickly as possible, but either worked enough for Alfred.  
Dr. Ryan had a serious look to her face. She was in her mid-thirties, but her hair had already begun to turn white at the temples- Alfred assumed from stress. She had strong eyes which were densely set into her head and stared without fear. At this moment they stared with concern as well. 

“Mr. Pennyworth,” she began, readjusting her glasses, “this child hasn’t had a proper meal for a very long time. My guess would be around a month or more. He has 4 percent body fat and hair has begun growing all over him- it’s his body trying to keep him warm. He is severely malnourished and has what I believe to be the beginnings of osteoporosis. We’ll need to do bloodwork and extensive testing to figure out just how lacking in nutrients he is.” She pursed her lips. “Now, I am not a psychologist. I cannot legally diagnose mental disorders. However, it would be unethical for me to not alert you that the chances of Damian having an eating disorder are extremely high. My professional opinion is to consider transferring him to the psychiatric ward. I understand that he is a minor, but he will be best cared for while surrounded by doctors who understand what is needed for him to get well again.”

Alfred felt as though his mind had been encased in jelly. He didn’t know what to do. The thought of his aggressive little grandson stuck in one room constantly being watched made him not only fear for the doctors’ safety when the child’s rage finally peaked but also sent in a sense of extreme sadness and desperation. He knew his boy needed professional help- honestly all of his kids did in one way or another- but this wasn’t the right time. Damian needed to be with his family. They would be better at monitoring him than the doctors would be anyway. Unfortunately, this was not his soul decision to make. He needed to call his son. He’d have to tell him everything.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone for all of the kind messages. It really helps to motivate my writing when I know how much everyone enjoys it. I hope you enjoy my most recent installment <3

Bruce was in a meeting with his financial advisors about stocks and pricing on their latest medical technology when he gets the call. He’s just about falling asleep in his overly luxurious leather chair when the buzzing coming from his right pocket is enough to jerk him out of his stupor. That phone is for family emergencies only. Alfred, the kids, and James Gordon are the only ones with the knowledge of this cell number and Bruce can tell from the pattern f vibrations he has set up for each contact that Alfred is the one calling. Immediately Bruce’s pulse shoots through the ceiling of Wayne Enterprises as he imagines the worst possible case scenarios- because he’s a glutton for pain and he knows it. ( Oh god, what if someone’s dead? Was it the Joker? What if it was one of the kids? Has Dick been kidnapped again? Has Jason relapsed with his No Murder Program? It doesn’t even have to be Batman related, hell, Tim could have been kidnapped from school! Their lives are dangerous enough at night without them having to worry about being taken away for ransom! Fuck, I’m a terrible father.) 

Bruce stood up from the table abruptly and waved a hand dismissively at the confused and startled people at the table. He mumbled the words “Family emergency” before darting off toward his private office and pressing the answered phone against his ear. He didn’t have to wait long after practically shouting “What happened?” into the microphone. Alfred, always the family rock, suggested that his son “Calm the hell down, I am not in the mood to be spoken to this way, Bruce” and attempted to explain the situation. 

“I got a call from Damian’s school a moment ago-“  
“Did he get in a fight again? Alfred I told you this phone was for emergenc-“  
“You will not interrupt me. No, it wasn’t a fight.” Alfred sighed into the speaker, “I would actually prefer that to be honest.” Bruce could hear the pain and his heartrate began to climb again.  
“Was he attacked? Kidnapped? Is he sick?” Bruce could feel the Papa Bear surging through his veins.   
“Damian is in the hospital currently. Bruce, I can hear you hyperventilating, calm down. He is stable and he will be fine.”  
“What happened?” Bruce was scared to find out. How did his son- who regularly beat up grown adults five times his size- end up in the hospital?  
“His teachers say that he collapsed during his physical education class. The school policy is to call an ambulance for all kids in the building who lose consciousness, and he was taken to Gotham General.”   
“Do the doctors know what happened?” Bruce was worried. Possibly more worried than when his kids got injured on missions. At least then he knew the causes.   
“The doctor just came by and alerted me to the fact that Damian is incredibly malnourished. She said that it was as if he hadn’t had a proper meal in months.”  
“Well, what do they think it is? Some kind of virus? A spell? What is it?”  
“The current idea appears to be an eating disorder.”  
Bruce’s heart dropped into his stomach.  
“That can’t be right. He’s never had problems with his appearance before. And he’s been keeping up just fine on missions and patrol!” Bruce was perplexed. His son had an eating disorder? Is it even possible for boys to have those? He had never heard of that before but he is a crime fighting, bat-dressed father of six so he supposed anything is possible.   
“You can come to the hospital and see for yourself if you don’t believe me. Your son needs you.” Alfred’s voice dropped from his angry tone into something softer and more broken. “He looks so much younger and smaller in that hospital bed.”  
Bruce startled. He forgot to consider how difficult it would feel to get the call that your youngest grandson was in the hospital. Bruce is just shocked he hasn’t noticed before. What kind of detective was he if he couldn’t even tell if something was wrong with his kid? Now for any of his adult kids he could see that happening- they at least don’t live with him anymore. But Damian sleeps just down the hall from him every night. He’s by his side every patrol and his crime solving is top-notch. How do you miss something so obvious when it’s two feet in front of your face.   
Bruce thanked Alfred for the call and promised that he’d be there soon. After hanging up he dropped his head down to his desk with a heavy bang. He smacked it a few more times against the hard oak just because he felt like it.   
Oh wait, shit. What if his self destruction comes from me?  
Bruce didn’t even want to consider that a possibility. Here he was- a father. He was supposed to protect and care for his children to help them lead the best lives that they possibly can. What good can he do, though, if all the problems in his kid came from his own terrible genetics?  
Bruce rubbed his hand down his face before messaging Lucius and his secretary that he would be leaving early due to a family emergency and that he is unsure of when he would be able to come back to work but would keep them updated.   
With one final check of his phone to make sure the message was delivered, Bruce rushed out the door to go see his son.


End file.
